


Peripheral

by witblogi



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Breeding Kink, Dreams and Nightmares, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mothman, Sexting, Weird Biology, horror themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-02 12:01:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21161327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witblogi/pseuds/witblogi
Summary: Fall of 2015 was a weird time for Geno.





	Peripheral

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dadvans](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dadvans/gifts).

> dadvans: You wanted weird dicks and Nathan MacKinnon SO HERE WE ARE?? This one got so weird, I'm sorry
> 
> Richard Gere never had to deal with this shit.
> 
> ***** if you are bothered by spooky or horror themes don't read this at night maybe?? I trust you, reader, to have your own back on this!*****

“Okay, okay, but like you never tell any _actual_ good stories about Malkin.” Nate set his plate and cutlery down by the sink, watching Sid rinse dishes and methodically put them into the dishwasher. 

“What do you mean? I told one _today_.” Sid continued without even looking up. Nate rolled his eyes, picked up the wine bottle and refilled both of their glasses. When Sid was doing the serving, the wine was always worth drinking - unlike Tyson’s ratchet ‘teammate’ stash. Nate slid Sid’s glass over to him and wiggled himself into a bar stool.

“The three years super league story is awful. Everyone’s heard it like two hundred times. Tell me an actual story about you guys.” Nate paused while Sid sized him up, accepting his newly refilled glass.

“I think you’ve heard plenty of stories, I know Flower’s still got your number.” Sid took a sip and returned to cleaning up after their meal.

“He does, and he’s used it to great effect, which is why I want to hear the story of how you guys decided to get together. He says I have to hear it from you or I won’t believe him. You were friends, teammates, whatever and then suddenly married, so how’d it happen?”

“We’re not married, we don’t even spend the off-season in the same country.” 

“Like you wouldn’t have him training here permanently if you could without bringing attention to it.” Nate snorted, dismissing Sid with a sloppy wave of his glass. He needed to slow down probably, but for now he was feeling loose and pleasantly warm. 

“Well we can’t, although I do think he could be working harder at creating explosive cross-body move-”

“Don’t pull a classic Crosby deflection. Answer the question. How did you and him get together?” Nate interrupted, holding up one hand to halt Sid’s oncoming rant about the way Malkin’s training was going based on his instagram stories.

Sid sighed expansively and threw his sponge back into the sink. 

“Fine, I’ll tell you the story, but I don’t want to get carved about this and I _swear_ it is what _actually_ happened.” 

Nate settled his ass more comfortably into his seat, hooking his feet around the rungs of the stool. 

“Alright, the truth.” He toasted Sid, who looked at him with all the fondness of an exasperated older brother. Nate was used to that look, he and Taylor had compared notes on multiple occasions. He much preferred it to the look Sid got on his face before he decided to tap into whatever internal well of god-like willpower he had to win.

“You remember the 15/16 season?” 

“Where you won a cup, yeah I know it,” Nate replied dryly; everything came back to hockey of course, but he didn’t appreciate if Sid was trying to weasel out of story time again.

“Do you remember the beginning of that season for us? It was awful. I think about it a lot, why things were so bad and got so good. Part of it was Duper getting sick, part of it was coaching, and part of it, I think, was what was going on with Geno in October.”

— — — — — — — — — — — —

“Oh, look what the cat dragged in!” 

Zhenya slunk into the locker room. Usually he tried to swan through his lateness, he was good enough that practice could _wait_ for him. Today was different.

“You’re so fuckin’ late, dude!” Zhenya shot a withering glare back at Sunshine, who immediately dropped his gaze and found himself extremely busy inspecting his helmet. 

“How is that different from any other day?” Kuni chirped as Zhenya dropped into his stall, rubbing his aching head before yanking off his sweater and mussing his hair.

“He’s not usually rolling in _after_ ice time.” Sid appeared, the perpetually sweaty-pink voice of reason. Zhenya felt a wave of uncontrolled annoyance roll over him even though Sid really had done nothing wrong. The sight of his disgusting salty hat alone was enough to set him off. Sid never had bullshit happen to him, he was always perfect and wonderful and spoke English well. Asshole.

“What happened G? Are you okay, bud?” He met Sid’s sharp gaze and mutely shook his head, disliking all the eyes on him in the moment. The room’s jovial mood dropped into a serious tenseness that felt strangely satisfying. Suffer. 

“Do I need to get a trainer? JR, Mario?” Sid asked quietly and Geno shook his head again and then again. 

“No, just weird night, morning,” he frowned, tugging his outdoor shoes off and reaching for his sneakers. No point in putting gear on at this point, he’d lost his ice time, which was just perfect.

“What happened?” Flower appeared at Sid’s shoulder, his long face keenly interested.

Zhenya said nothing, unwilling to look up and see an entire locker room’s worth of concerned faces staring back at him. Instead he pulled out his phone and tossed it carelessly onto the floor before him. It landed face up, showing them its shattered screen. 

Sheary scooped it up and made a noise of mourning. 

“Is why I’m late, wake up: phone broken, no alarm.” 

“You broke your phone?” 

“No…it’s…” He didn’t know how to explain the series of events that lead to this morning. “Drive home from plane…” he recounted, wetting dry lips, “have accident.” 

The last they’d all seen each other was less than twelve hours before. Their charter flight had delivered them safely back into a drizzly Pittsburgh just before 1:00 AM and everything had been normal. Fine. 

He’d slung his overnight bag into the back of his Porsche and had sped into the night as per usual. 

Zhenya had grown bored during the drive, stabbing at his phone with his thumb, idly trying to find anything to keep him distracted as he occasionally looked up at the empty road ahead. It had been overly shiny with a rainy gloss over the road reflecting every scant light. His tired eyes had felt dry and gummy behind his contact lenses. He’d been so ready for his own bed he needed _anything_ to keep from falling asleep right then. 

He’d just been annoyed at his disappointing fantasy league rankings (fuck Flower and his freaky goalie intuition) when he looked up just in time to see _something_ coming towards him faster than he could even react to. 

“Wait, you _hit_ something?!” Kuni sounded all bristled and concerned, and when Zhenya looked up, the same look of horror was painted on all his teammates’ faces. 

“Maybe. Hard to see.” 

He’d swerved, slamming on the brakes and immediately fishtailed sideways on the slick blacktop. He saw flashes of reflective eyes, wings maybe, the roadside lights smearing across the dark, but he heard nothing in the chaos. He struggled to regain control of his car as it spun like a toy on the blacktop. When he finally came to an abrupt stop he found himself parked somewhat crookedly on the wrong side of the road. 

Zhenya had sworn then, heart pounding through every part of his body. He’d taken a moment to press his eyes closed and tip his head back into the headrest, thankful he was okay as he breathed heavily through the surging adrenaline spike. He’d pried his stiff fingers from the wheel and reached out a shaking hand to pull the lever for the door. It was still drizzling a little bit outside, but otherwise the night was quiet and clear. 

He’d inspected his car, which looked for the most part miraculously untouched. It usually accumulated scratches and smudges like nothing else so the fact he couldn’t find anything immediately was unreal. 

He then took a few slow steps back to where the incident had been, leaving his car, door open, engine ticking. The headlights illuminated where he’d just come from, but there was nothing on the road and beyond the puddle of light anything else was hard to make out. He couldn’t hear anything crying or rustling in the ditch either. 

“Well, what the fuck _did_ happen then?” Tanger asked, annoyed. Zhenya frowned back at him. 

“If I’m know I’m _tell_ you. Think maybe is big bat, maybe bird like night time, very quiet-” 

“An owl?” 

“Yes! Owl maybe. But I’m remember getting back in car, thinking maybe tired, maybe imagine - and then I’m just _home_.” Zhenya willed them to understand how alarming it was, wishing he could just explain everything that happened with all the details he remembered. No one reacted, like the dumb fucks they were, and he sighed deeply in frustration. He was starting to feel overwhelmed with everyone staring at him like this, waiting for him to explain himself better. He looked at Sid instinctively who caught his gaze and lifted his head immediately.

“Okay boys, give G a little space, we all have things to do. We can figure out what happened without the peanut gallery.” He stepped slightly in front of Zhenya, physically shielding him from the rest of the team until the group dispersed, Sheary sheepishly handing back his useless phone before scampering off.

“Okay, get changed and then we’re talking about this. Leadership meeting.” Sid turned back to him, giving Kuni a small nod while outright ignoring Flower and Tanger making outraged noises. At least some things were always the same, and Flower and Tanger being outraged at being left out of leadership meetings was one of them.

Sid commandeered the small conference room that always smelled too much like feet and Icy Hot and the foursome of Zhenya, Sid, Duper and Kuni settled into the rolling chairs at the conference table. It looked like a board meeting for Meat Heads and Co. 

“Okay, last you said you didn’t remember driving home.” Sid prompted him gently, brow furrowed in concentration. 

“Maybe. It’s-” He made a hand gesture as if to say fuzzy, wobbly, or imprecise but he had no idea what a word was in English to say that, so charades would have to do. They seemed to understand what he meant in any case and nodded along.

“That’s not so weird though. Sometimes I zone out while driving familiar places too,” Kuni assured him and Zhenya attempted a smile. 

“How did your phone break? In the accident?” Duper spun the offending piece of technology on the table. 

“No?” Zhenya was annoyed at his own insecurity in his answers. He was usually firm and knew what was happening; even when he was tired he usually knew what was happening, where up and down were, what was right and what was wrong. He didn’t have to be happy he was awake, but he had his wits.

“I’m go to bed when get home. Can’t sleep at first. Then when I’m do sleep, my gate,” He poked at the useless phone, “is ask for permission to open, someone there.” He scrubbed one hand over his hair, “When I’m look it’s no one.” 

Zhenya’s security camera in its green night vision display had shown no one waiting at the keypad for his gate. The wind wasn’t even blowing. He’d grumpily flipped through all his cameras just to make sure there was no one walking away from a ding dong dash and found nothing. 

When he set his phone aside and settled back into an almost doze, the alert requesting gate access went off again. It happened again and again, he’d just start falling asleep and his gate would wake him up. After the sixth request he was about to throw his phone out the window. 

“I’m plug in and turn silent. Alarm set, only get a few hours of sleep before practice, but some is good.” He shrugged, “When I’m wake up phone like this, dead, shatter.” 

“And it didn’t fall off the table and crack on the floor?” 

“No, still plug in on table beside bed. Just broken. Have weird night, weird morning.” 

“Do you have a headache G?” Sid again, unconcerned with the phone and instead examining him closely, eyes roving over his face. 

“Yes, not bad.” He’d woken up with it, and assumed it was just from lack of sleep. The look on Sid’s face however made him think maybe he had something more serious to be worried about.

“We need to tell the trainers, maybe you hit your head during your accident and didn’t even realize it.” Sid nodded at Duper, who got up and jogged out of the room no doubt in search for those very trainers. The word concussion rattled around Zhenya’s mind large and unchecked. A small, real shiver of fear started to snake its way down his spine.

“It would explain the rest of the night,” Kuni mused, “Maybe none of it happened at all. Maybe you were just dreaming, or hallucinating. Maybe your phone had been broken since the accident,” he suggested, making Zhenya feel sick at the whole idea. 

— — — — — — — — — — — —

“Wait, I don’t remember Malkin being out with a concussion that fall.” Nate frowned at Sid across the island while Sid scrubbed at a piece of crockery like he was just an ordinary guy without the most expensive personal dishwasher known to man sitting under his cabinet.

“He wasn’t. All the tests and scans turned up negative actually. No one could really explain what’d happened other than he’d just had a really weird shitty night, eh. He got a new phone, got chewed out by the coaching staff and he had someone come and do maintenance on his gate. He tried to just forget the whole night ever happened,” Sid shrugged, wetting his sponge down again, frowning in concentration.

“Okay…so nothing happened, how is this relevant?” Nate watched Sid turn the dish over, examining it for any spots he’d missed.

“You know how I’m not very good with technology?” He asked and rolled his eyes as Nate gave him the most deadpan look he could manage. “Alright well G’s not quite as bad as me, but he’s not great either.”

— — — — — — — — — — — —

All of his phone contacts were fucked. 

Zhenya peered through his glasses at the shiny new screen of his phone, glowing up at him. His entire contact list was a mess. Names, numbers email addresses, Russians, Americans all of them mixed and matched and _messed up_. It was probably something _he’d_ done to it, some mysterious toggle he’d flipped that’d made this nonsense out of his previously carefully curated lists of acquaintances, friends and business contacts. He was bent over his phone the night before a game and trying to think of any fast way to correct this without having to spend one of his precious days off in a too-loud Apple store trying to hear and understand peppy English speakers in bright blue shirts. 

Nothing came to mind. He found Genya’s number, and his parents’ shared cell phone (the two numbers he actually had memorized), labeled them properly and called it a night. He’d sort it all out soon whether that was with a genius bar, texting literally every single number in his phone, or the old-fashioned way of sending out a mass text alerting everyone to his new phone, but in the meantime he’d just muddle through. 

He cringed, so much ‘new phone who dis?’ awaited him, and he had _Mario Lemieux’s_ number in there, shit.

_UNKNOWN  
hey, just wanted to check in and see how you’re doing._

Zhenya groaned at the new text. Already it was beginning. 

_you got your new phone today, i think  
hopefully you get this, haha_

Well that cleared it up, the only person who laughed that awkwardly virtually was Sid.

_ZHENYA  
It’s fine, have phone now_

He paused, thinking about keeping it at that, but Sid would sniff out him leaving anything out immediately. 

_Not sleep good still_

He’d been having nightmares about the accident and other unnamable things, winged figures standing just out of his peripheral range, but when he turned there was nothing there. When he woke up he felt as if he hadn’t gotten any sleep at all.

Last night the dreams had taken a turn into even stranger territory. The figure Zhenya couldn’t see was touching him this time, an unsettling feathery feeling between his shoulder blades and trailing down his arms. Not quite terror, not excitement, just something, energy, anticipation of what was going to happen thrummed through him. He’d woke that morning sweating and wired and distressingly horny.

Sid probably didn’t want the dirty details, and they didn’t really matter that much, he’d had all sorts of unsettling and unsexy dreams as a teenager that he’d woken up with stiff sheets to. It didn’t mean anything. Zhenya’s thoughts drifted to the fact that his regular racy night time imaginings usually featured a certain concerned captain in just his shower slides- 

_UNKNOWN_  
:( sleep is important  
do you want to talk about it? 

Zhenya texted back immediately, mortified like Sid just knew what he’d been thinking about. 

_ZHENYA_  
no  
is fine 

The last thing he wanted to do was get into another deep heart-to-heart with Sidney Crosby. Ever since the miserable ruin that was Sochi, and the conversation they’d had afterward – tearful on Zhenya’s part – things had been intimate and warm between them; Sid had put him back together again in exactly and precisely the way no one else had been able to, like he knew exactly where every last broken piece of Zhenya’s heart usually belonged. 

After that, there was no coming back from the fact that Sid had irreparably cemented himself into Zhenya’s heart and soul. All his memories were fair game, Sid being charming and cute while they were young and growing into their features and even now handsomely settled into his wrinkles and greys. Any stray fantasies he’d ever had about his captain suddenly were front and centre in every private moment.

_UNKNOWN  
Okay, well I’m here in any case_

That was the problem.

— — — — — — — — — — — —

Zhenya continued to lose sleep. 

The unsettling dreams continued, and his tiredness invaded his waking life. He was slow on the ice, forgetting words more often than ever, he gave up entirely on wearing his contacts anywhere but on the ice, and he was starting to imagine things. 

The winged creatures in his dreams started feeling like they were just around the corner in his waking life too. He found himself backtracking and looking over his shoulders relentlessly. 

He got phone calls that when he answered them were just dead air, clicking a few times before the dial tone started up. Occasionally in those few moments he could have sworn he heard someone breathing over the line. No matter how many times he blocked the caller they always called again.

New guy Kessel thought he sounded paranoid when they had lunch together and Zhenya told him about his new phone problems. Tanger and Flower chirped him with obvious prank calls when they caught wind of his recent communication problems. Sid just earnestly peered up at him in the privacy of the Penguins’ gym with worry on his unguarded face. 

“You know I’ll give you the name of my energy guy,” he said one afternoon, perched on the leg press machine while Zhenya did work with a medicine ball on the mats. Zhenya rolled his eyes. Sid’s ‘energy guy’ was a certified weirdo in his opinion who thought he could heal everything from plants to animals to Sid’s concussions with incense and hand waving. 

“Don’t need,” he grunted, catching the ball and repositioning his feet noisily on the sticky mat without looking at Sid. 

“I think you do. I know you don’t think it’s real, and reiki isn’t a thing but it’s an ancient kind of healing and it _really_ helped me when I was out,” Sid explained to him again, like Zhenya hadn’t heard him say the same thing to literally every person in the room numerous times before. It worked for some of the guys, and that was fine. Zhenya was made of sterner stuff than that, though.

“Not hurt. Not sick,” Zhenya replied with his breathing, pulling strength up through his legs and core and pushing it into the ball.

“Your body might be fine but your energy is really off, G.” 

“You expert at energy?” Zhenya snapped, catching the ball again. He was tired of having this conversation, and maybe he was cranky in general. Between text messages and being stalked in the gym it felt like Sid was everywhere lately, and it was already hard enough at the best of times to act like things were strictly no homo between them.

“No.” Sid blinked at him earnestly, hazel eyes flinty, “But I know you pretty damn well, and I know you aren’t okay right now.” 

Zhenya sighed noisily and dropped the medicine ball with a satisfying echo. Flower didn’t even look up from his marathon run on the treadmill nearby.

“Am fine. Just tired. Just need one night good sleep - back to normal,” he assured Sid uselessly. He’d been trying to get that night’s sleep for a week now and nothing was working, not even the relentless exhaustion of playing three NHL games a week.

“Well when you’re ready to talk about it, or if you need that number I’m here for you,” Sid said, too quiet and his voice too deep. If Duper were here Sid would immediately have gotten a fine for sounding like he cared about Zhenya too much. As it was, Zhenya had to stand still and keep his face blank while his sternum turned into a writhing mass of moths trying to escape his chest.

“You already say,” Zhenya croaked, turning back to the medicine ball. In the mirror across the room Zhenya saw his own flushed face twisting up with the effort of his workout, and behind him Sid’s brow furrowing for just a moment before smoothing out as Schultzy called him over to another part of the gym.

— — — — — — — — — — — —

_UNKNOWN  
I thought about you a lot today_

_ZHENYA  
we talk today tho..?_

_UNKNOWN_  
the way you move is inspiring  
you’re not like any other person i know 

_ZHENYA  
nice to say..?_

_UNKNOWN_  
you need to take care of yourself  
you should let me help 

_ZHENYA_  
already tell you my energy fine  
stop try. I call you if want number of guy. 

— — — — — — — — — — — —

Zhenya was dreaming. 

He was pretty sure he was dreaming because Sid didn’t usually wear open collared black silk shirts that made the clean column of his neck look thick and delicious. He smiled up at Zhenya in the way countless women and some men had mastered, peering at him through his lashes, daring, flirty, unwavering. 

His eyes were glowing gold. He smelled like fresh ice, and tangy ginger, cloves, orange, musk. It was intoxicating, and the longer Zhenya in his dream talked to this Sid, the more beautiful and ethereal he became. His skin was unblemished and satin smooth, his lips were wet and red. Zhenya swayed closer and closer to him, feeling dizzy and entranced.

Dream Sid backed him into a wall, it was soft but firm, maybe it was actually a bed and Sid was kneeling over him, pressing closer and closer until they were kissing. It was a drowning kiss and Zhenya struggled to keep up. He’d been accused of using too much tongue in the past, and now he felt like he was on the opposite side of that, Sid’s tongue thick and demanding in his mouth. 

Zhenya got hard but couldn’t roll his hips high enough to make contact with Sid anywhere. His thighs were too strong and heavy, pinning him. Zhenya tried to buck harder, starting to panic as he found he couldn’t open his eyes or move his arms. His lips caught on no longer Sid’s fangs, and his shirt felt like feathers, or fuzz, something warm and soft, no longer the cool slick of silk.

He couldn’t breathe.

Zhenya was still hard, aching in his pants, desperate to get away, to get friction, to get something. A clicking sound echoed through the room around him, the same clicking he always heard when he answered the phone and no one was on the other end. 

He blacked out into gasping consciousness, batting back his sheets and duvet that were twisted tightly around him. He cupped his cock in comfort, already losing its urgent rigidity as the reality of the nightmare settled around him and his sweat cooled. 

Once his breathing went back to normal and he was blinking at the ceiling in the low light of his bedroom, he grabbed his phone off the bedside table and fired off a text, squinting against its brightness. 

_ZHENYA  
I want your energy guy number_

— — — — — — — — — — — —

“THIS DID NOT HAPPEN.” Nate was young, sure, but he wasn’t _stupid_. The fact that Sid was trying to pull this Are You Afraid of the Dark bullshit on him was frankly insulting. They’d relocated to the Adirondacks around Sid’s firepit out back and it only enhanced the YTV-style spooky storytelling vibes.

“No, seriously dude, this happened.” Sid was laughing but did seem like he was trying to convey sincerity. He wasn’t a very good liar when he wasn’t being his bullshit media personality but Nate was still wary, “Geno told me everything I swear. I was also there for some of it.” 

“What do you mean? ‘There for some of it’, you were in his dreams _also_ being fucked by some Crosby spirit or demon, or fucking mothman or something? You know how this sounds right?” 

“I know! I know, this is why we _don’t_ tell this story.” Sid rubbed a hand up over his face, “I’m not fucking with you, just suspend disbelief here for a minute.”

“What do you think I’ve _been_ doing?” 

“Do you want to hear the rest or not?” 

— — — — — — — — — — — —

Sid hadn’t texted him back, which was weird. Zhenya checked his phone multiple times that morning before heading off to the rink for the pregame morning meeting, but nothing. Sid usually replied pretty immediately in the mornings, sticking to his routines of following up correspondence via text message and email over breakfast. Zhenya knew getting back to teammates was a top five priority too, so what the fuck, this wasn’t like him.

They didn’t get a chance to talk for hours, through coach prep, tape review, leadership meetings, team lunch. He only just caught up to Sid as he was tugging on his hat in prep to enter the arena’s public sphere and then to his car and back home. 

“You don’t answer text this morning,” he said, rather than try any sort of small talk. Sid frowned up at him. 

“Oh, I didn’t? I didn’t see one from you this morning I don’t think.” Sid pulled out his phone to double check but Zhenya closed his hand over Sid’s to prevent him from unlocking it.

“I send early. Bad sleep again, text for number your guy,” he said shortly, hoping no one was going to pay them any attention. Considering the noise he’d made in the past about what a bunch of bullshit Sid’s energy healing was, he didn’t need to get fined for crying about it now.

“Oh,” Sid said, “_Oh._” He looked up with dawning comprehension that this was clearly more serious than he’d thought if Zhenya was actually coming to him so quickly after he’d last shot it down.

“I’m tired. Is annoying and make Penguins play bad,” Zhenya said sheepishly. Sid pursed his lips contemplatively. 

“I’m glad you’re taking this seriously and want to get help, but the Pens aren’t your sole responsibility, G. We’re all playing shit out there together.” 

“Play shit for sure.” 

“We need to focus on the future, and part of that is getting every one of us healthy,” Sid said pointedly and unlocked his phone. He proceeded to navigate all the icons one by one until he found his contacts app. Zhenya rolled his eyes, Sid couldn’t use folders like everyone else on the planet and had to have his phone as disorganized as possible. He liked to claim there was a _system_ in place but Zhenya had yet to see any evidence of one.

“I get worry you don’t text, you know?” Zhenya said in the awkward pause as Sid scrolled through his contacts, reams and reams more than Zhenya had with his English and Russian phones put together. Sid’s brow furrowed. 

“I must have missed it or something, maybe a glitch?” He looked up at Zhenya briefly, “That happens with text messages too right? Emails sometimes don’t go through, eh.” 

Zhenya didn’t have a clue what Sid was even talking about. But it didn’t matter, they were together in person getting shit done, he just wanted to make sure Sid wasn’t being affected by whatever was causing Zhenya to lose sleep and have everything around him go haywire. Maybe it was a curse, _maybe_ it was a sickness that had delirium as a symptom. He took a half step back from Sid just in case.

“His name is Randy by the way. And I might have already texted him about you so he’s kind of up to date on what’s going on.” Sid read out the number for Zhenya to punch into his phone, “I’m-” Sid looked at him, unreadable expression on his face, “I’m worried about you too, you know?” 

“I know.” Zhenya said already hitting call and raising his phone to his ear. Sid lingered beside him, dicking around on his phone or something while Zhenya talked to Randy, who honestly sounded like every other athletic trainer he’d ever talked to, a little too peppy and willing to ‘put in the work’.

“Have ‘emergency’ assessment set up in one hour,” Zhenya repeated to Sid once he’d hung up. He was sure he’d have pieced it together from the half of the conversation he heard but it was polite to clarify, “What you say to him? Make him so-” he couldn’t remember the word for urgent and just spun his finger around like a wheel faster and faster. 

Sid shrugged, but his cheeks went suspiciously pink and he wouldn’t look at Zhenya. 

“I don’t know, I just told him what was going on with you and that I was worried about it.”

Zhenya narrowed his eyes at Sid and moved to further block the door, implying he wasn’t buying that was the whole story and Sid should just fess up whatever it was he actually did.

“I told him if you ever called he should do his best to accommodate you as soon as possible, as a personal favour to me,” Sid confessed. Zhenya blew his breath out in exasperation. When Sid called in personal favours that was a lot. He had so much weight in the sports community, let alone all of Pittsburgh, his favours weren’t taken lightly. He’d been thinking about this more than he’d initially let on.

“Okay, I go to meeting, take serious. Tell you what happen,” he promised, clapping Sid on the arm and restraining himself from feeling more than the appropriate squeeze.

“Good, I’m-” Sid laughed nervously, “I really want you to figure this out, G.” He took a breath, “It’s not the same when you aren’t playing at our level, huh?” 

They exited CONSOL together, shoulders brushing – or would be brushing if Sid’s shoulders weren’t mid-bicep on Zhenya. They stopped at Sid’s SUV, Zhenya pausing there while Sid slung his bag into the backseat and opened the driver’s door.

“We’ll talk later. And we’re going to come back okay? You, me, the Pens, we’re going to come back,” Sid said in that voice of his, Canadian and pure, like he believed himself with his whole heart. Zhenya wanted to believe as well, no matter how exhausted he was.

“Cup this year?” Zhenya tossed out, half joking. Sid’s eyes flashed and he just dipped his head, the bill of his cap obscuring his face for a moment. 

“If I have anything to say about it.” 

— — — — — — — — — — — —

Randy’s office was pretty normal, all things said. His practice stated that he focused on reiki and energy healing for sports professionals. The pamphlets in the waiting area were glossy and nice looking, although Zhenya didn’t have enough time to truly get into reading them. He genuinely hated reading in English and could not do it with any real speed. Knowing what the words said and comprehending them were two very separate things and improving his medical and professional language skills was not always a priority in his life.

Randy was a trim Asian man who was dressed like any other trainer in track pants and a cleanly pressed tee that upon closer inspection was actually a grey scrub top. His office was where it became more apparent he wasn’t just a regular medical professional. 

On the walls were a few charts outlining chakras, there were intimidatingly pointy crystals aesthetically placed on seemingly every visible flat surface and there was a lingering smell of incense in the air, although Zhenya couldn’t identify the specific scent. 

He sat on a squeaky vinyl bench/bed in the middle of the room and Randy pulled up a stool and a tablet to take notes on.

They went over what had been happening for the past few weeks leading all the way back with the car accident. Zhenya felt silly even calling it that, and the more often he told the story the more ridiculous he felt. He’d swerved because it was late, rainy and a bird swooped at just the right point in time and almost killed himself. It was embarrassing.

Randy didn’t seem to take it lightly; in fact, as he made notes as Zhenya spoke his demeanour grew more and more grave. It was actually kind of freaking him out.

“Alright, I know you’re skeptical of this field of alternative medicine, but as we know there is energy inside of all of us, and inside every thing, including non-living things. The flow of this energy is important to how we all function and when something is blocking or impeding it we can feel that, even if we don’t know what it is,” he said in his no-nonsense tone. Zhenya could see why Sid liked him. As desperate as Sid had been in the depths of his concussion, he must have been a great comfort with his clean smells and dimly lit room.

“Maybe I won’t have any effect on you today, but at the very least the fact you are here indicates you are open to the possibility that something is wrong outside of the norm. From what you’ve said and my preliminary feelings about the aura you bring with you, I think you’re right. If nothing else you’ll go home and nothing will have changed.” 

“Yes, but less money.” Zhenya tried to make it sound like the joke he intended it to be and not like an insult or a gripe.

“Yes. That’s exactly what Sid said when I first started treating him.” Randy smiled and hopped up from his rolling stool, setting his tablet aside, “I’ll do an examination now, all you need to do is sit there and relax, breathe deep and evenly, in through your nose, out through your mouth – good.” 

Zhenya relaxed while Randy rubbed his hands together and let them drift over him, starting at the crown of his head. He didn’t remember when he closed his eyes but when he opened them Randy was staring at him in what could only be described as horror. 

“What?” Zhenya asked, alarmed, checking the clock above the door instinctually – to his surprise forty minutes had passed. Had he fallen asleep upright?

“Time is right?” He asked Randy in confusion, already pulling out his phone to check as the other man closed his tablet case with a snap. 

“Yes, that’s the correct time. There’s nothing I can do for you right now, Mr. Malkin. Your energy is not currently entirely your own. You’ve been _marked_,” he said ominously. Zhenya stared at him, open-mouthed. 

“What you mean? Mark?” 

“I can’t interfere with whatever presence that has claimed your energy, or feeds from it without endangering myself. I’m sorry.” 

“What?” Zhenya asked again, feeling distinctly like a fish out of water. Barely anything had happened and yet Randy was opening the door and gesturing for him to leave. Zhenya left in shock, dazed and a little angry. Sid said this guy was a professional, and then suddenly this? 

“No payment is required.” Randy waved him away from the front desk. Zhenya marched to the door fuming and embarrassed for some reason. He pulled open the door to a gust of cold air that hit his cheeks and went straight through his jacket chilling him to the bone.

_ZHENYA_  
your guy useless  
say i’m haunted??? 

— — — — — — — — — — — —

They lost abysmally that night to the Stars. Zhenya wasn’t in the mood to wait around for Sid to finish with the press so he went home. He’d had no reply from him that whole afternoon but that wasn’t too unusual so close to a game when Sid was trying to focus on captaining them out of a nosedive. Zhenya ate, and stretched, and yet found himself wide awake at 1:30 and unwilling to make the move to get into bed only to lie unblinking at the ceiling. 

Instead, he shrugged on his coat and heeded the call of the darkness outside, deciding to take a walk around his neighbourhood’s private pond and try to clear his mind. 

He couldn’t get out of his head the way that Randy had looked at him, scared almost, like he had an incurable disease. 

_UNKNOWN  
you aren’t haunted_

Finally, Sid must have gotten home and done one last check of his messages. Zhenya replied as he continued walking, the trees rustling as the wind blew. He tucked his chin further into his collar against the chill.

_ZHENYA_  
know that  
why sudden haunt? sudden ghost?  
not real 

_UNKNOWN  
it’s real, but not a haunting_

_ZHENYA_  
you talk to randy?  
you believe? 

_UNKNOWN  
i don’t need to_

Zhenya didn’t appreciate Sid hyping up whatever this ‘energy blockage’ or whatever was. If he couldn’t solve the problem or even identify the problem he shouldn’t get to dictate to Zhenya what the problem was.

The hair on the back of his neck was standing up and he felt uneasy, either with irritation or cold he couldn’t be sure, but he suddenly no longer wanted to be on this walk and turned around, immediately beelining it back to his door.

_ZHENYA_  
you want me talk to him so bad  
don’t need after?  
what you mean sid? 

He hurried off the path, cutting through a small copse of trees to shorten his trip back, focusing on his phone in his hand, but Sid didn’t appear to want to reply any more, of course.

_Sid? _

He looked up, feeling suddenly as if he was being followed. A set of steps just a beat off from his own materialized into his awareness behind him. It was 2:00 AM on shared property, Zhenya didn’t dare stop to check if the other crunching in the leaves were actually there or just a product of his imagination and the wind – he just ran. 

He saw a terrifying figure by his garden wall – winged and black with glowing red eyes but then he blinked and it revealed itself as just Predator, standing guard as it always did. Zhenya swore and sprinted past it straight back into his house, warm and dimly lit, slamming the door and locking it as fast as possible behind him.

He panted for a minute, eyes darting to every corner of his giant lonely house where anyone could be lurking. He lurched forward, slapping every light on that he could reach, illuminating just curtains and chairs in the corners as always. 

Only when it was lit up like he was having a party with everyone he knew invited did he stop. He crumpled in the hallway between the kitchen and the office, hanging his head between his knees to sob dryly, hands shaking. 

— — — — — — — — — — — —

“Shit, was he okay? Did he have a brain tumour or something?” Nate held out his glass for Sid to refill again. 

“Look, this is a lot of commentary I’m getting from you. If you don’t want to hear this-” Sid looked older in the light of the fire, holding the bottle back as if threatening to send Nate to bed. 

“No. I do. At this point I need to know what happens.” Nate shook his glass expectantly and Sid acquiesced to pour.

“But like, if this _actually_ happened it had to be a prank or something, right? Were you and Flower pulling something over on him? Was it actually you in the woods, like texting him and then following him?” 

“Why would I do that?” Sid settled back into his chair, adjusting the blanket under him so it wasn’t scrunched under his massive butt.

“Why do you do anything? To be the best?” Nate suggested with an eye roll.

“Mine and Geno’s relationship has never been like that.” 

“Bullshit.” 

They stared each other down for a couple beats before Sid shrugged and agreed.

“You’re right, we are competitive-”

“Hypercompetitive.” 

“Hypercompetitive but not like that. I’d never do something to hurt him or endanger the team like that. By this point G was getting like an hour of sleep a night. He looked awful, he was walking around like a zombie, barely eating, jumping at every unexpected sound…” 

“Shit.” 

“Yeah. But it got worse.”

— — — — — — — — — — — —

He was dreaming of Sid again, his warm body strong and soft against Zhenya’s. His body hair crinkled between them, more of it than Zhenya had expected, but it was sexy, manly. He ran his fingers through it and pulled Sid’s heavy body even closer. He smelled of cloves and ginger and ice, again.

They were actually fucking this time, Sid’s cock fat and intrusive in his ass, picking up rhythm, growing larger every moment. Sid laced their fingers together, pinning Zhenya’s hands down on either side of his head. 

He was groaning kind of, sucking at the hinge of Zhenya’s jaw. It was almost a clicking noise in the back of his throat. Zhenya groaned as well, Sid getting him just where he needed, a little rough, rougher – almost too much. His dick was so long, and it felt textured, like it was covered in soft spines. 

His thighs were adjusted, parted and hiked up further by Sid’s other dicks, tentacle like - a dark ruddy red and similarly covered in spines. Not-Sid clicked again, and when he raised his head, his eyes were large and faceted like some kind of insect. 

Zhenya screamed himself awake, sitting upright, cock throbbing and sticky wet against his abdomen. He flopped back into his bed, panting as the sweat cooled in the dip of his clavicle and along his upper lip.

His stomach churned and he closed his eyes, trying to get the grotesque vision of Sid with those eyes glistening at him out of his head. 

He gave up on the idea of sleep, unable to stomach the idea of having another dream like that, and instead got up to have a blisteringly cold shower. 

Once that was done he had what felt like all the time in the world before he actually needed to be a functional human and get himself to the airport for their flight to Nashville later that day. 

He packed, he cleaned, he caught up on his emails, he even did a few rounds of Duolingo, but he still couldn’t shake the lingering unease from the dream. When he thought about taking a walk to clear his mind he stalled upon leaving the house. Even in the beautiful pinky orange dawn he didn’t want to risk going out alone again. 

Zhenya wished he had a big dog to take with him, but he’d lived in apartments his entire youth and wouldn’t know how to take care of anything less independent than a cat. He couldn’t stomach the idea of being a bad pet owner, and a responsibility that big and _depending_ on him still made him a little skittish.

He stayed indoors, he played with a stick and a puck in his living room like when he was 14 and still healing from a broken foot. 

He thought about Sid. 

When Zhenya finally made it to the airport a sense of calm had settled heavily over him. He was in public, nothing totally crazy could happen in public. Everything was under control, there were witnesses. 

He couldn’t sleep on the plane, even though the heavy drone of the engines made him drowsy. He couldn’t risk having another dream right where everyone could see and hear and fine him for it. Cully was giving him concerned looks, and Tanger almost wouldn’t take the no that he didn’t want to participate in their card game. 

“You do look like dog shit though, man,” he’d said as a parting shot, punching Zhenya in the arm as he passed by to get back to the game seats, “Rest up! We have a game to win!” 

— — — — — — — — — — — —

They did win in Nashville. Not by much, but two points were two points and Zhenya would take it. He was dead on his feet and both wanted and dreaded nothing as much as sleep.

He felt like he was hallucinating things, and his general mood was rock bottom. He could barely muster up the energy to go to lunch with a few of the guys to a famous BBQ joint and when he did finally escape to his hotel room he sealed himself in gratefully. Facing his bed, he trudged past it instead to stew in an uncomfortable arm chair in the corner rather than getting in those sweet fluffy sheets for even a second of rest.

_UNKNOWN_  
you were better last night  
are you resting easier lately? 

Zhenya really didn’t have the energy to deal with Sid’s cryptic text messages right now. He hadn’t talked to Zhenya at all since the Randy incident, not that Zhenya particularly wanted him to. He’d been avoiding his captain at all costs, trying to run from the memory that his own mind had conjured up – a sex dream so grotesque that Sid had had two extra tentacle-like cocks and he was so depraved and into him he’d still gotten hard for it.

_ZHENYA_  
you think i’m sleep yet?  
you see bag under eye?  
so dark, look like 40+  
look like jagr 

He tried to keep it light, casual, not-avoiding-you-at-all energy. He didn’t expect a reply right away, but when one came he took it gratefully.

_UNKNOWN_  
I think you look good  
as good as you always do  
better than most 

Zhenya peered down at his phone in confusion. He wasn’t on his best game at the moment, admittedly, but it kind of sounded like Sid was hitting on him.

_ZHENYA  
is chirp?_

_UNKNOWN_  
i’m saying i’m attracted to you  
i’d make you feel so good if you let me 

Zhenya stared at his phone. He blinked several times. 

It still said what he thought it did but he couldn’t believe his eyes. He’d never picked up on even a whiff of Sid being _attracted_ to him before. Caring about him, _loving_ him sure, perhaps, but he’d never had an inkling that it was anything other than platonic or familial.

He also couldn’t believe allergic to change and ‘technology only made things complicated’ Sid was doing this over the phone.

_ZHENYA_  
sid, what you say?  
should talk in person? 

_UNKNOWN_  
let me talk now  
let me tell you how much i want to suck your dick  
I’m good at it 

That was too much for Zhenya. He hadn’t been sleeping, and when he did nod off it was only to have highly erotic and disturbing dreams of his biggest fantasy. He hadn’t properly masturbated in days, had it been weeks? Every time he tried he’d get a flash of tentacle cocks wrapping around him, or an echo of the phantom feel of fuzzy hands sliding down his back and ass and get too creeped out to continue.

Now he had actual Sid, actually suggesting his real-life mouth (with no fangs or pincers or anything) was actually as plush as it looked. Zhenya was only a man, he got his dick out.

_ZHENYA  
serious?_

_UNKNOWN_  
of course i’m serious  
it’s all i think about  
you’re distracting 

He couldn’t think straight at the idea that Sidney Crosby was distracted by him. Worried about him. Attracted to _him_. Zhenya tugged at his foreskin and shuffled his pants down his thighs to make some room. He gave a brief thought to pulling his pants back up and waddling down the hall to Sid’s room so they could do this properly but that felt like effort, and this was sexy in a deliriously taboo sort of way. He would have never thought Sid was the type to initiate dirty texts.

_ZHENYA_  
i want too  
too much, you suck my dick?  
deep throat?  
what about jaw? 

Zhenya sighed in exasperation at himself. Inquiring if sext acts were too much for old injuries was definitely something you did _in person_ with someone you loved, not in a digital hookup in a hotel room in Nashville. He had absolutely no chill.

_UNKNOWN_  
your beautiful cock is worth any pain  
but there wouldn’t be any, because it’s you 

Zhenya took up his dick in earnest, not just playing but outright stroking it now.

_ZHENYA_  
tell me  
what else you want 

_UNKNOWN_  
i want to bury my face in your ass  
lick you from spine to sack  
until the flavour is permanently in the back of my mouth 

Zhenya shivered at the thought of being rimmed so thoroughly. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d hooked up and actually had time for something that in-depth, nor had someone that wanted him that badly. Sid had seen him, and smelled him in every state, to still want to huff the sweaty taste of him from the depths of his jock was nasty, but Sid was nasty too. All prim on the outside, but deep down he wanted to fuck as bad as any of them.

_UNKNOWN_  
i want to fuck you  
to hold you down  
and give it to you 

Zhenya groaned, rewriting over what had been haunting him in his mind. Sid, familiar, comfortable, with tousled hair. Smelling of only the generic body wash Dana stocked in the showers and turning endearingly pink all the way down to his nipples. He was awkward about it, but he knew how to move his hips when it mattered. Zhenya had seen him after a few drinks on the dance floor, he knew.

_ZHENYA_  
i’m take it  
just how you give  
give hard 

He was pretty much tapped out with regards to English, but he was so close anyway it didn’t matter, Sid could probably send him his current ideas about the power play unit next and Zhenya would still blow his load over it.

_UNKNOWN_  
i want to be deep in you  
come in you  
breed you 

The idea of it was filthy hot and Zhenya did come, boiling over, body tensing up and releasing violently as he pulsed all over his fist. He panted, boneless against the uncomfortable chair while waves of intense fatigue crashed over him all at once. 

He spared an idle thought that Sid might not have finished, but didn’t have the strength or ability to reply. He wiped his hand on his underwear, kicking his pants off entirely and flopped his way onto the bed. He passed out like that, glasses still smashed on under his face, full Winnie the Pooh bare-assed on the duvet and finally slept. 

— — — — — — — — — — — —

“_Sex_ting?” Nate asked skeptically before taking a deeper drink from his glass. He wasn’t sure he was ready for the TMI half of this story.

“Yeah, I have the receipts here if you want to see them and don’t believe me still.” Sid tapped his phone, resting on the arm of his chair. 

“Oh my god did you just say receipts? Who taught you to say that?!” Nate cringed, Sid didn’t pick up on any slang except hockey, and even that sounded a little forced when he first started using something new. 

“I’m not _that_ old, Nate. I’m still a millennial,” Sid huffed and Nate stared at him skeptically until Sid held up his hands in surrender and relented.

“It was Jake.”

— — — — — — — — — — — —

The next couple days were a weird soupy blur of travel, not knowing how to make eye contact with Sid in person, filthy sexting, and catching cat naps in weird places when he finally crashed.

He never slept long enough to truly get a meaningful rest, but he also didn’t sleep deep enough to dream, which was the true goal. He felt like he was _becoming_ whatever was haunting him, finding himself perched in odd places in his home, carrying things he had no recollection of picking up, walking into rooms with purpose and then not knowing why he was there at all.

The sexts were just as depraved and filthy as they initially started out. Sid describing in detail the way he wanted to suck on Zhenya’s balls, fuck him full and dripping. From having been so hard up and confused in the erotic fugue of the previous week, Zhenya was now the polar opposite, scrambling like a teenager to find private moments to take care of himself as urgently as possible.

He blew Sasha and company off for drinks before the Caps game when they were in Washington and he couldn’t explain why he’d felt so urgently like he had other things to do when shy little Plotnikov had inquired after him.

He dozed off on the flight back to Pittsburgh the morning of October 30th, tucked under a scratchy polyester Penguins blanket and feeling safe enough with only an hour to snooze surrounded by forty other men.

When he woke it was to Flower’s alarmed shaking of his shoulder, and a group of very concerned faces gathered around, including Sid. Zhenya wiped the drool from his chin and mumbled something to the effect of “what the fuck?”

“You were talking in your sleep, bro,” Dumo said, white as a sheet with two high splotches of colour on his cheeks. 

“Okay?” Unless he was shouting the Penguins player code of conduct while he napped that was no reason to wake him up. How long had he been out? Ten minutes? He’d endured far worse from other players annoyingly on the phone with their partners.

“Not English,” Tanger said crisply and Zhenya looked at him like he was as truly stupid as he sounded.

“I’m not dream in English, stupid.” 

“It wasn’t Russian either, G,” Sid said, his cross was dangling over the collar of his shirt, glinting in the overhead reading light, like he’d been holding it tightly just a moment before, “It was like…like someone else was talking with your mouth.” 

“Full paranormal experience,” Flower agreed earnestly, which Zhenya squinted at. Flower was only earnest when he was pranking, or actually scared shitless. It was impossible to tell which, which made him so dangerous. 

“Fuck you all,” Zhenya said grumpily, “Not funny, I’m fine.” 

They seemed to drop it then, fading back to their own seats, only looking back at him a few times. Some shitty friends they were.

“You’re not fine.” Sid had lingered beside his seat, crouching in the aisle and taking up the whole thing with his massive ass. Zhenya didn’t know why he didn’t just climb over his lap to sit down next to him, it wasn’t like they weren’t kind of fucking. Although they hadn’t acknowledged it at all in person – no, Sid was probably right to keep his distance. 

“I want to come over this evening, keep an eye on you. You’ve been so weird this past couple weeks and I talked to Randy when you never told me how it went.” 

“What you mean I never tell! I text!” 

Sid pursed his lips like he thought Zhenya was lying but also too fragile or emotional to be dealt with directly and shrugged. 

“Okay well in any case I talked to him. I know something is really wrong. You aren’t sleeping, are you? Look at you.” Sid reached out and almost thumbed one of the bags under his eyes, catching his hand before he made contact and pulling it back sheepishly.

“You don’t help with not sleep you know,” Zhenya said darkly, implying their recent marathon jerk off sessions, but Sid just cocked his head at him in confusion. Zhenya wasn’t about to spell it out for him here if he was going to play dumb so he just shook his head. 

“Fine, you come over.” At the very least maybe they’d actually fuck and dispel some of the weird energy Zhenya had been feeling building up in him. It was as if every orgasm got less satisfying and the itch he had inside him got harder to scratch.

“I will, I’ll bring some supplies,” Sid said out loud, like promising lube and maybe toys or ropes or something was a totally normal bros thing to do. Zhenya nodded and ducked his head, already pulling out his headphones, fully intending to ignore Sid until he went away so he wouldn’t get an erection on their team plane thinking about what else ‘supplies’ could encompass.

— — — — — — — — — — — —

The supplies Sid meant, as it turned out, were various dried herbs that he immediately started hanging up in Zhenya’s foyer, crystals similar to those in Randy’s office, and salt. 

“You cook? Have salt…” Zhenya said, examining the huge box Sid had brought with him. Usually North Americans criminally under-seasoned their food, he’d never thought Sidney PB&Js-for-every-meal-if-he-could Crosby was this big into salting his food.

“It’s for the doors and windows, not cooking.” 

“What you think is happen here?” Zhenya asked, a little amused, but also deep down relieved that at least someone was _doing_ something, however stupid it sounded to put salt all over his house that he was just going to have to clean up later when he couldn’t sleep. That was one thing all the nightmares and insomnia had provided - his house was cleaner than it’d been in years.

“I don’t know. But based on what I heard on the plane and what Randy has been saying I definitely think there’s some kind of dark spirit or being latched on to you.” Sid looked as determined as someone could, setting small crystal formations just so on Zhenya’s newel posts. 

They spent a fairly ordinary night in otherwise, Sid checking in on how he was feeling whenever he got up unexpectedly to do something and immediately lost his train of thought. Lining every doorway and window in salt took a good couple of hours and they passed the time mostly companionably. It felt good having someone else in the house with him, looking out for him; it was warm.

Too bad he was too chickenshit to actually address what was lingering unspoken between them, mainly the slew of absolutely filthy texts he was now in possession of from Sid. That was why it wasn’t until they were hours deep into Sid being in his home, lingering over a bottle of wine late after dinner that Sid actually broached the topic himself. 

“Listen, I know me being here is intrusive, and I’ve been _hovering_ or whatever for a while now. I don’t mean to be overbearing.” He ran blunt fingers over the stem of his glass, clearly not finished with his thought, “I’m just trying to sort out my feelings. We’re having a rough season, and when you told us you’d been in that car accident it felt like hockey totally didn’t even matter anymore.” Sid looked up at last, wetting his lips. 

“And that scared me so bad. You potentially being hurt, but also the fact that hockey, my _thing_, my anchor after being out just suddenly didn’t matter. If you weren’t going to be okay, or weren’t going to be there with me… I couldn’t even breathe,” he said, sounding small.

“I know it’s probably weird, and I’ll understand if you don’t feel the same way and want me to leave or not talk to you for a while, but I had to tell you. I have feelings for you.” Sid’s media face was fully on, as if to protect him from whatever fallout he was expecting. Zhenya stared back at him, making sure he was fully finished. 

“Sid, I’m know you have feelings,” he said slowly, trying not to laugh when Sid looked shocked, “Figure out when you say you want get me pregnant.” 

“What,” Sid said flatly, “This isn’t a joke Geno, I’m not-” his voice broke, “I’m not fucking with you and I’d appreciate if you think it’s funny you at least respect the fact I’m sticking my neck out here and not chirp me for it.” 

“Not chirp! We been text for week! So much sex I’m wonder if we ever talk face to face!” 

“Texts? Sex? What are you talking about? I haven’t had any texts from you since…since maybe before you broke your phone. I just thought maybe you didn’t set it up right.”

Zhenya felt something cold and heavy fall into the pit of his stomach. He pulled his phone out and opened Sid’s or what he thought had been Sid’s message thread. The number was inaccessible - like Sid’s always was, but he’d never thought to double check. Who had been texting him, who had he been sexting with?

He slid the phone over to Sid, feeling sick. 

“Contacts all mess up, thought was you,” he said shakily, while Sid scrolled slowly up, eyes widening. 

“Holy shit, G, these are really explicit.” 

He nodded sickly. 

“Who is this?” He asked and Geno shook his head, sliding his fingers into his hair. He was beginning to get a headache, “Whoever they are, they seem to know you, and the fact you thought they were me,” Sid said slowly, giving his phone back.

“I’m block number. Never text again,” Zhenya said, already stabbing away at his phone’s menus, feeling violated. Why could nothing be normal in his life anymore? The calm feeling from setting up Sid’s crystals and salt had evaporated.

They sat in tense silence for a little while. 

“So. You have feelings for me too then?” Sid said awkwardly, “Or just because of those, um, sexts.”

Zhenya laughed unexpectedly at the sheer absurdity of Sid feeling insecure because of some stalker’s attempts to impersonate him. 

“Yes, like texts because they you, not because hot,” he said firmly, “Have feelings for while,” he added, mostly to see the rosy glow that Sid’s cheeks took on. 

“Come, it’s late, we need sleep. Been quiet here with you to protect,” he teased, standing and showing Sid to one of his guest bedrooms. He hadn’t thought they’d be using it at the beginning of the night, but he’d also thought so many things this week that weren’t actually true he was having a hard time keeping it all straight.

Closed into his own bedroom he felt exhausted as always, but strangely hopeful. Sid had untangled some of the weirdness maybe, and maybe his crystals and herbs would let him sleep and he could become a true believer in alternative medicine and hang chimes and dream catchers from all his windows and live happily ever after.

Zhenya got ready for bed and settled with that thought warm in his mind, trying not to think about the sexts, or any of the rest of it. He shut his eyes.

His phone rang. 

More precisely it buzzed repeatedly on his bedside table, flashing with an incoming call from…from Sid. 

Zhenya frowned and sat up, picking up his phone hesitantly while looking at his door. He slid his thumb across the face to answer and held it up to his ear while throwing his covers back. He grabbed his glasses and slung them on.

“Sid?” He was already getting out of his bed to go to the guest bedroom to see what was going on. Why had Sid called him and not just knocked on his door if he needed something?

“Hey, G.” Sid sounded awake, “I was wondering if I could come over tonight,” he said in a low voice, tone heavy with meaning. 

“What you mean?” He asked, confused as he padded down the hallway to the guest room. 

“I mean, like, maybe we could act out a few of those texts.” 

Zhenya recoiled from his phone, bringing it back to his ear just in time to hear a faint clicking before Sid was saying, “G, you still there?” 

“I’m here-” he reached the door to the guest room and threw it open, unamused that Sid would be pulling a prank like this after seeing how freaked out Zhenya had been about being tricked like that. 

“So what do you say, eh?” Sid said in his ear, as Zhenya perceived in the dim light Sid’s body curved under the covers, fast asleep in his guest bed. Zhenya felt like his mind was melting, what the fuck was happening? He turned the lights on in the room and the Sid in the bed winced, scrunching up his face adorably as he struggled back to wakefulness. 

“G?” He asked across the phone again.

“G? What’s up?” Sid asked sleepily in person. He hung up the phone and dropped it to the ground, grabbing for the closest blunt object he could find, which just happened to be a miniature Stanley cup made of cast iron that usually sat on the dresser in the guest room. He held it aloft like a bat. 

“Prove you’re _real_ Sid.” He said bluntly while the Sid in the bed sat up, blinking at him unhappily.

“What?” 

“Phone call also from Sid.” He nodded to the phone on the floor, that was ringing again, Sid’s picture flashing across the screen. The Sid in the bed looked at his phone with wide eyes and then to where his own was sitting on the side table. He knelt upright and raised his hands slowly. 

“Okay. Okay you don’t trust me, that’s fair. We need some kind of test.” 

“Tell me story only you know. Tell me conversation we have long time ago, just us,” Zhenya said, trying to think clearly, imagining all the dumb conversations he and Sid have had privately over the years.

“When you first got to the NHL, remember I wanted to go last onto the ice and so did you-”

“_Not_ that one.” Zhenya took a step forward, holding up the heavy trophy a little higher, “Most popular,” he gritted out while this Sid raised his hands even further up, splaying his fingers out innocently. 

“Okay, okay, you’re right, sorry, I just-” Sid paused, “I just really like that story. I’m sorry, I’ll pick something else, something I’d never tell the press.” He paused and thought for a moment. 

“When you came back from Sochi you played like shit. We had dinner together and I told you about Vancouver, and how I’d been under so much pressure I hadn’t had a solid shit for a month. I told you so many people tried to back me into a corner and undo my zipper to get me off I started pinning it shut from the inside with a safety pin. I just wanted to get you to laugh again, you know? To know you weren’t alone feeling like an entire country was breathing down your neck. I could have easily lost that gold, it was a lucky OT shot and nothing more,” he said softly. It was something that he’d never admit to anyone, but had quietly told Zhenya when he was feeling at his lowest, like he’d let down his entire nation in every way possible.

Zhenya lowered the trophy slowly. It was heavy and he had a headache. His phone had stopped ringing, although it looked like there were text messages piling up in his notifications.

“Are we friends again?” Sid asked gingerly, hands still up. Zhenya sagged, putting the trophy on the floor and picking up his phone while he was at it. 

“Who is other Sid?” He asked, not really expecting an answer. 

“_What_ is other Sid.” Sid scrubbed a hand through his hair, “Do I really know everything that’s been happening or is there more?” He asked gently. 

Zhenya shook his head, swiping away the notifications from the unknown Sid asking where he was and telling him he was coming over. He drifted to sit on the end of the guest bed. Sid swung his legs around to join him, separated by enough space that it still felt safe.

“You know most. I’m have crazy dream too. Not want to sleep because of this,” he said and explained to Sid the explicit and inappropriate nature of the dreams. Sid, to his credit, did not look disgusted, although he did look faintly red around the back of his neck and ears. Zhenya didn’t blame him, it was always a little strange and intimate to hear when someone else was having sex dreams about you – weird triple cocks or not.

“So you’re, uh, always the one on the receiving end of whatever this thing is.” 

“Hm?” Zhenya didn’t understand, but maybe he just hadn’t been listening.

“You’re always getting fucked.” Sid cringed, “You’re never the one fucking me - or uh _it_.”

“Maybe yes.” Zhenya thought about it and then nodded, “Yes. Always fuck me.” 

“And the texts were-” Sid didn’t finish his thought but Zhenya nodded anyway, they were along the same lines, “So there’s uh, a pretty big sexual element to this whole thing.” 

Zhenya was about to nod that yes there was when his phone buzzed in his hand, alerting to him that someone was requesting gate access. When he checked the security footage he swallowed hard to see Sid standing there, looking up at the camera. He tilted the screen so his Sid could see as well and watched as the colour drained from his face. 

“Whatever this thing is, it certainly likes me, huh.” Sid swallowed and Zhenya shook his head. As they watched the Sid in the camera slowly smiled, eyes flashing reflectively in the low light camera. It definitely wasn’t human whatever it was.

“Want me. Know best way to me is you, you’re weak spot, always.” 

They sat in silence together for a few beats. Sid took Zhenya’s phone from his hand and set it aside so they couldn’t watch whatever was pretending to be Sid scale the fence or do whatever it was going to do in the darkness outside.

“This is going to sound crazy,” Sid started but Zhenya just snorted. 

“Everything sound crazy. Two Sid!” 

“That’s fair. I was just - it sounds like it wants you sexually, maybe to breed with you or something. Maybe we need to take that option away from it,” Sid said quietly and Zhenya turned to look at him properly, Sid was biting his lip like he didn’t want to say any more but was forcing himself to do it.

“How?” 

“Maybe you need to be marked by someone else.” He paused, “Claimed.” They made eye contact then, a frisson of tension crackling between them as Zhenya digested what he was suggesting. They needed to have sex, Sid needed to mark him up as his own.

“What if nothing happen,” Zhenya pointed out, swallowing and trying not to get too ahead of himself. Sid just made the suggestion, he didn’t volunteer to actually get straight to fucking.

“Then we’re in this together. I’m not leaving until we figure out how to un-curse you, or whatever it is we need to do. I’ll do what it takes.” Sid looked at him seriously, hesitating before adding: “It’s me and you, G, for better or worse.”

Somewhere on the first floor below them, someone or something was violently trying all the door handles. 

Zhenya shivered and laid his hand on Sid’s arm. He stroked his thumb through the hair there, more downy and sparse than it’d ever been in any of his dreams. Sid’s flesh was warm and comfortingly not at all like his demented fantasies.

“You’re want to do this? Want to have sex with me? Right now?” He wasn’t going to force Sid into doing something he wholeheartedly didn’t want to do, especially in an already tense and stressful situation.

“Yeah.” Sid nodded.

“For you? Or for me?” Zhenya needed absolute clarity. He also couldn’t live with himself if Sid only consented out of his sense of duty. He did that sometimes and it was awful to watch.

“Well, the timing isn’t exactly ideal, I’m a little more scared shitless then I’d prefer to be of the thing wearing my face like a halloween mask, but I’m not exactly uninterested either.” Sid rested his other hand on top of Zhenya’s on his arm. 

“Fear boner?” Zhenya asked and Sid laughed gratefully.

“Yeah, exactly.” 

“Okay, we do right. Come, my room.” Zhenya led Sid by the hand to his master bedroom with its drawn curtains and his underwear on the floor. It was normal, realistic. As long as he focused on the domestic mundanity of it he felt like this wouldn’t get out of their control.

They kissed for the first time in the middle of the room. Zhenya ducking his head and Sid lifting his chin up, up, chasing the stale taste of toothpaste from his mouth until he found the wine they’d had with dinner underneath.

Sid smelled like soap, and sweat. They were normal, usual scents that weren’t alluring or intoxicating at all. Zhenya tucked his nose behind Sid’s ear and inhaled the sweet regular scent there. 

They smiled shyly at each other as they took off their own clothes, ignoring whatever noises they could hear outside of the house. Zhenya told himself it was the wind as he set aside his glasses and the proceeded to forget entirely that anything was happening outside of his bedroom when Sid stepped out of his sleep pants and kicked them aside. He stood there, nude, proud, broad and invitingly pink.

He’d never really let himself look before, but it was undeniable that Sid looked good naked. The soft strength of him was impossible to miss and Zhenya wanted to sink his fingers into him everywhere. He reached out again and brought them together for another kiss, electric everywhere they touched from where Sid clutched his shoulders to where their bellies rubbed.

“You have such a big dick,” Sid murmured, blushing deeply and looking up at Zhenya through his eyelashes. “That’s embarrassing, pretend I didn’t say that,” he mumbled, reaching out to stroke Zhenya greedily. The Sid in his dreams had never touched him like this, like Zhenya’s body’s pleasure was just as much his own.

“Is good. All guy like hear how big cock is,” he assured Sid teasingly, pulling him onto the bed. 

He tried to take his time with Sid, despite a feeling growing in the back of his head like something was wrong. When they were touching however, that feeling of unease grew flimsy and inorganic - like someone had planted it there for him to find and act upon and not something he was actually feeling.

Sid took his time with the lube, slowly stretching Zhenya out until he felt like taffy moving in reverse, getting warmer and more malleable by the second. His square fingers were thick and perfect as he looped one of Zhenya’s long legs into the crook of his arm to get it out of the way while he worked. He watched where he was stretching and dipping into Zhenya’s pink asshole with rapt attention.

“I want to memorize this,” Sid murmured mostly to himself, looking intensely focused the way he never did unless he was looking at a puck and a net. Zhenya shivered under the mortifying scrutiny.

“In case we have to do again?” He asked breathlessly, talking mostly about the peripheral threat of whatever curse was hanging heavy around their bubble of intimacy.

“No, just for me, because you’re beautiful like this,” Sid said devastatingly. He smoothly sunk down to tongue at the underside of Zhenya’s shaft while he fleetingly rubbed at his prostate. Zhenya groaned, pressing back into the pillows and running his hands through Sid’s hair, probably mussing it irreparably.

When Sid went to grab a condom a few moments later, Zhenya roused himself enough to stop him before he got it on.

“Has to be claim, fully,” he said, firmly moving Sid’s hand away until he dropped it and settled back into the bowl of his hips bare. Sid looked down at him with his bitten lips and dewy high flush. Beautiful.

“Okay?” He asked, fitting himself against Zhenya’s hole, and when he nodded Sid thrust once, smoothly in to the hilt, “Tell me,” he breathed into Zhenya’s neck, “tell me.” 

Zhenya didn’t know what he wanted him to tell, but just made all the noise he’d been holding back, clutching at him as Sid took up a devastating roll of his hips, slow and hard thrusts knocking the wits out of him.

They left the realm of fucking and had drifted into grave lovemaking territory almost immediately but Zhenya didn’t care. This was everything he’d ever dreamt about and _more_ because it was _real_.

“So good,” he crooned, breath hitching at the apex of each thrust as they came faster but no less hard. His fingertips made white imprints that faded to red on Sid’s strong back as he clung to him.

“Touch yourself. G, god.” Sid pressed up to give Zhenya enough room to get a hand on himself, and changed his own leverage to fuck even more urgently.

Something outside scratched loudly at the windows but Zhenya didn’t hear it, succumbing to an orgasm that finally felt like it was real, every pulse heightening the next as he spattered his own belly with white. 

Sid paused while he caught his breath, but Zhenya merely adjusted the position of his legs and pulled Sid close by the hips. 

“You now.” He leaned up to lip at Sid’s chin in a sloppy kiss where their lips locked briefly and then Sid was moving once more, collapsing back down onto his elbows. “Give to me.” 

Sid picked up a new rhythm, rocking his hips urgently into Zhenya’s for a half dozen more sensitive thrusts until he too tensed and came, sinking his teeth into Zhenya’s shoulder as his cock throbbed and unloaded inside. 

They collapsed together in a tangle of sweaty limbs, Zhenya luxuriating in a feeling of lightness slowly settling over him. It was peaceful and yet he was suddenly more exhausted than he had maybe ever felt in his life, even when he was a fresh rookie to the NHL and playing more games a week than he ever had in his entire life.

“You passing out?” Sid murmured into his shoulder, brushing the hair off his brow carefully, but Zhenya was already lost, falling into the deepest sleep he’d managed in weeks. 

— — — — — — — — — — — —

“So you fucked and that was it?” Nate said expectantly, like there was more to it. In all honesty, he thought there would be more to it.

“I mean, yeah.” Sid shrugged, rising to grab the water bucket to douse the fire. They were done with story time and he wanted to get to bed before 1:00am.

“And that fixed it? Made mothman or whatever go away?” Nate asked, watching Sid pour the bucket carefully over the coals, letting them steam out. He poked around in the fire to make sure there was nothing hot still lingering.

“Sort of, Geno had a few really messed up dreams for a while, and sometimes there would be gate requests he couldn’t explain again. But it wore off after a couple weeks and things more or less went back to normal.” Sid continued tending to the fire, not looking up at all.

“Except you’d fucked one of your A’s.”

“Yeah, except Geno and I realized we had feelings for each other and decided that was a good thing for us both,” Sid said patronizingly, glaring up at him. He was cranky and it was time for bed, clearly. Nate couldn’t let it go that easily though, Sid couldn’t spin a yarn that long without expecting follow-up questions. He trailed after him as Sid went about flicking off the overhead string lights and gathering up any stray beer cans from the day.

“So what did it want then? What was the point? To like impregnate him?” Nate asked; it sounded like it. 

“Maybe.” Sid shrugged again. 

“And you want me to believe this is an actual true real-life totally-happened story.” 

“You can believe whatever you want, but I just told you this for an hour of my life I’m not getting back. So if you think it was worth it as a prank for nothing but the skeptical look on your face, I’ll leave you to be the judge.” Sid awkwardly opened the patio door by pushing down on the lever with his elbow. 

“I’ll believe it when Malkin confirms it’s true without you having talked to him first,” Nate said smugly, sure that if this was all just a plot to fuck with him, Malkin surely wouldn’t be in on it. Sid wasn’t a huge premeditated guy when it came to stuff like this.

“You know what?” Sid checked his watch, “It’s almost 8:00 am in Moscow right now, why don’t you call him and ask him.” 

“I usually only send him unflattering pictures of you, would I be waking him up?” Nate asked skeptically and Sid cocked his head. 

“Probably.” He turned and went into the kitchen, letting the door close behind him leaving Nate on the deck with the remains of the fire pit.

Nate sat there for a while thinking as Sid moved around in the kitchen, and then he started flicking lights off preparing for bed. Nate was left sitting on Sid’s back deck alone, illuminated by only the light from the moon and stars above and what reflected off the lake.

In the end his curiosity outweighed the potential of being checked into next year the next time they played the Pens in retribution for an early wake up and he scrolled through his contacts until he found the name he wanted. 

_Facetiming Evgeni Malkin…_

_…_

_…_

“MacKinnon?” Malkin’s pale sleep-lined face appeared on his phone. Nate abruptly realized he wasn’t super well-lit either and moved over to where Sid’s motion detection light would blind him with its abruptness as it cut on overhead.

“Yeah. Hey.” 

“You look for Sid?” Malkin asked gruffly, brows so furrowed they looked like one continuous line on his face.

“No. No actually I was just talking to him. We spent the day together doing the podcast thing and I asked him tonight to tell me how you guys got together and he told me this crazy story about I don’t know mothman or something and I just need to double check he was telling the truth,” Nate said, feeling like the dumbest idiot as _the_ Evgeni Malkin just stared at him like he was some kind of bug. 

The moment stretched on and on until finally Malkin muttered something annoyed sounding and the camera moved abruptly like he was handing his phone off. 

“Not mine.” Nate heard him say distantly, and then the phone was being picked up by - by Sid. Nate’s heart skipped a beat as he gripped his phone tighter trying to understand what he was seeing. 

“Nate? What’s going on? What time is it there, it’s gotta be late.” He said with mussed sleep hair, clearly in bed _beside_ Malkin who was busy tucking a pillow over his face and shoving at Sid to get out of the bed if he was going to talk. Sid laughed and acquiesced while Nate looked up at the all dark house he’d just seen Sid disappear into. 

“Why did you call G and not me? What’s up?” Sid stepped out onto what was clearly a balcony overlooking Moscow, the sun glowing bright in the morning sky already, “Nate? Are you on my deck?” 

“H-how are you doing this?” Nate asked, eyes darting to look at all the windows and around him. His wine glass where he’d left it was gone, and when he reached out and gently touched the fire pit, the embers were as cold as if they hadn’t been lit all summer.

“Doing what? What’s going on? I thought I was going to see you next week for the podcast.” 

“Very funny. You got me, stop it now,” he swallowed, already backing away from the flood light and descending the stairs off the deck as fast as he could. 

“What are you talking about? Nate, are you okay?” Nate ran as quickly as he could back to his house. He swore he could faintly hear a clicking sound coming from the woods around him. 

“Nate?”

**Author's Note:**

> _Mr Mothman man me a moth, make him real sexy, make him a goth_  
  
PSA: Please don't go on your phone and drive to keep yourself awake, that's an awful plan and you WILL die


End file.
